


Ill and Alone- Prompt Fill

by captaincravatthecapricious



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anxiety, Crying, Exhaustion, Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, M/M, Martin is there at the beginning and end but not enough to tag him, Nausea, Nightmares, Pining, Post canon, Sickfic, depresión, jon and tim are friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincravatthecapricious/pseuds/captaincravatthecapricious
Summary: Martin is out of town, Jon has a rough time.  (Yes I know this is the summary of half my fics, let me live).  Basically Jon is overworked, and sick, and sad, and missing Martin.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/ Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 125





	Ill and Alone- Prompt Fill

**Author's Note:**

> cw food mention, nausea mention, fever, anxiety, the concept of not feeling bad enough to merit comfort, depression, isolation

Jon wakes up to Martin leaving before dawn.Walks him to the door, hands him breakfast and a thermos of tea.Goes back to bed, the sticky exhaustion nipping at his heals, at the back of his skull.Inserted in the grit in the corner of his eyes. 

He wakes up to an empty bed, Martin’s side of the room looking sad and empty, usual trinkets of their cohabitation lacking.No prescription on the nightstand, no glasses, no poetry book, no neatly folded outfit set out for the morning, closet looking empty. 

The room is bathed in the grey light of early morning.Jon goes back to sleep. 

He wakes up properly at nine.He makes tea, staring at the faded sticky note that Martin had written precisely how both he and Jon respectively take their tea.Jon remembers by this point.It’s been years since he Needed to look at the note, but he still looks at it because… well… it’s Martin’s writing.Instructions written with care and precision, with a little heart and a smily face.He doesn’t trace the writing, he isn’t that pathetic, and he doesn’t want the paper to disintegrate any faster than it already is… but he wants to. 

Martin will be back in a couple days.He shouldn’t be this clingy…But the flat already feels empty and cold.Jon shivers, holding his tea close to his chest, and resisting the temptation to make a second cup for Martin. 

Jon teaches his classes.He eats lunch in his office.A sandwich that tastes like chalk and fills his mouth with cement.He grades a few papers.He teaches another class.He rides the tube home.He falls asleep on the couch.He wakes up on the couch.The flat cold around him, the cushions stiff and frozen against his slight and hurting frame.Joints stiff against the chill. 

He thinks about making dinner, or even just reheating some leftovers, but he doesn't.He texts Martin.'Love you, hope the volunteer training is going well.'

He falls asleep.Heavy and aching and so tired. 

He wakes up on the cold couch to a buzz from his phone.'Going well, just finished up for the night.Love you!'

It's dark now, but not late.Daylight doesn't last long in the grey of winter in London.Jon shivers.He thinks again about dinner, and how Martin would want him to eat, but he just wants a warm shower and to go to bed. 

He considers his cane, but doesn't feel it worth the effort.It is out of his way, and he would just like to get this over with. 

Jon hates sitting in the shower, but he hates baths more, and his hurting limbs won't keep him up any longer. 

Jon wakes up in a cold sweat.Salt on his lips, saltwater on his lashes.The flat is cold.Cold like his dreams.Panic on his breath as the Lonely dreams still hold him in their vice.He wraps his arms around his chest.He tries to rub his own back despite aching muscles, trying to make his own boney hands sooth him like Martin can.He shakes and he cries silently. 

He checks his phone, the low brightness still stinging his eyes, and smears the numbers of the time beyond recognition, but he makes out no new messages. 

He pushes himself out of bed on aching legs, and shaking arms, pulling on one of Martin's sweaters and stopping by the loo. 

He makes tea.And tries to take comfort because it is almost as good as when Martin makes it. 

Jon goes back to bed. 

It's morning and Jon's head hurts.His head hurts and his arms hurt and his legs hurt and his back hurts. 

He almost pushes himself up to get ready for work, but he remembers it is Saturday. 

Jon rolls over to Martin's side of the bed.Placing himself in the divot where Martin would be, if he were not out of town. 

Jon texts Martin.'Morning, have a nice day, love you.'

Jon dozes. 

He should make breakfast.But he isn't hungry, and he doesn't want to move.Even if his small frame isn't holding heat, even under the thick covers of their bed.He wants the weighted blanket.He wants the heated blanket, but those live in the closet.Those are for bad nights.Mostly of the time He and Martin under the thick duvet is enough. 

But it isn't night and it isn't that bad, is it?And even so, that is more effort that he thinks he can spare. 

He texts Martin. 

He texts Martin. 

He texts Martin. 

He texts Martin. 

Meaningless texts with the mundanities that are beyond him.Little messages about missing him, about making tea, about reading.None of them lies, but cutting out the dragging exhaustion that has given way to a dragging fever. 

And Martin texts back. 

Jon bundled in the heated blanket and Martin's jumper on the couch.Dosing off to the Archers.He still hates that show, but it's easier to hate something for the content than admitting he feels too shitty to even enjoy the documentaries he has been saving for the weekend. 

He grades some.Not much.And he makes tea. 

He thinks again about the leftovers in the refrigerator, but he doesn't have the energy to eat them.Lacks the appetite. 

Jon falls asleep on the couch.Tea cooling on the coffee table.Papers spread around him in uneven heaps. 

Jon texts Martin.And Martin texts back. 

Only the buzz of the phone keeping him from sinking deeper into misery. 

Jon texts him whenever he is awake to do so, and Martin texts back during his breaks. 

Jon's head hurts.He is shivering despite the heated blanket that is tight around him.Woken from another nightmare by his own gasping breath.The Stranger this time. 

He calls Tim. 

"Jon?Everything okay?"

Still gasping from the phantom hands rubbing him down, fighting the nausea that comes with that particular brand of terror, of that trauma of his invaded personal space.And the desperation that someone come and save him from his cold and empty flat and end this lonely weekend. 

"Jon, are you alright?Where are you, do you need your inhaler?" 

Jon probably does, but he fights for breath for a minute and he's more or less okay. 

"I'm home.It's fine, sorry for calling."He feels foolish for being needy, and more foolish still because he's fighting back tears now.Tears over nothing at all.Just the fever.Just the dreams.Martin will be home tomorrow, and Jon will probably be feeling better by then, and if not, it's probably mostly exhaustion anyways.He's been having a hard time getting restful sleep. 

"Hey, hey, hey Jon.It's okay to call.Are you alright?Do you need someone to come over?"Tim isn't angry.It still surprises Jon that there is no bite to his voice.No snipping, not sarcasm, not annoyance.Just... warmth, caring. 

"Just a little under the weather.I'm okay.Sorry for bothering you... Had a dream... and just... Sorry it's foolish.I'm alright."Jon shivers, and hoping he doesn't sound too soggy over the phone.He aches.Stupid joints.Stupid immune system.Gives out the minute Martin leaves.Which... good.He guesses… at least Martin isn't losing sleep over him this time.He hates that Martin doesn't sleep when caring for Jon.He Hates it.He hates stealing sleep for him, even if this is the mundane way of doing it, he still has cost Martin too much over the years. 

"I'm gonna come over, okay?It's not a bother, it's not an inconvenience, I had been planning to give you a visit anyhow, I've been too busy to drop by in a while and I want to see you because you are my friend, and if I make you soup as well, hey we both get dinner out of it.I promise I Want to.Sasha still has work, so I don't have any company tonight anyhow.No plans.Nothing."

"Not been hungry."That's all Jon has the energy to argue. 

"Feeling queasy, or just the usual fever nonsense?"Tim asks.He sounds too cheerful for this. 

"Nightmare queasy now, but mostly just... fever probably."

"Oof.One of those nightmares?Yikes.Well, that kind usually passes in a bit, then we can make you some Spicy Stoker Sick-day Soup.This Is to my benefit.Sasha isn't a big fan, and Martin isn't either.It's a good excuse to make some good comfort food."

Jon almost smiles."'kay." 

Tim must guess he's falling asleep again."Get some rest.I'll be there soon with some soup stuff and meds.Don't worry about letting me in, I have a key, remember?"

Jon falls asleep on the couch. 

He wakes up to tea being set in front of him. 

Jon groans and rubs at his eyes. 

"I know I've said it before, but that note in the kitchen is fucking adorable!I mean... a little sad that it took you that long to learn how to make yourself tea, but still fucking precious that the note still has a place of honor.Not to mention, it's good reference for when I want to make you the perfect comfort cup of tea!"Tim smiles at him. 

And it isn't the same as with Martin, but it still warms him up.At least a little. 

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?"

Jon tiredly rock his hand in a so-so motion. 

"Mind if I take your temperature before you drink that tea?"

Jon turns his attention inward to see if what remains of the Eye wants to be helpful today."38.6."

"That... I can't tell if that is handy or inconvenient.In any case, not bad but not great.You okay if I start the soup?You can either get some more rest of join me in the kitchen and we can watch some Buzzfeed on my laptop?"

Jon nods.He gathers his blanket and his tea, and limps to the kitchen. 

Tim sucks in his breath at Jon's clearly stiff movements, and rushes to plug the blanket back in before Jon can move to do so. 

"You.Are not gonna help, okay?You can help by drinking your tea, and some water and then getting back to the couch and using me as a pillow and eating a little something."

Jon opens his mouth to argue, but sees the steel in Tim's glare.Nothing unkind, but still solid resistance.He nods. 

Jon falls asleep on Tim.On the couch.Empty bowls stacked next to Tim's laptop, cord plugged in next to Jon's blanket. 

Tim stays the next afternoon until Martin gets home.Marin scolding Jon for not telling him he was ill.Martin thanking Tim for coming.Martin wrinkling his nose at the soup. 

Martin's prescription and glasses, and clothes and book back in their proper places.Martin in Martin's divot in the mattress, Jon smooshed against Martin, still a shade too warm, but much better than earlier. 

Jon falls asleep in Martin's arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to say hi or drop me another bingo prompt you can find me at captaincravatthecapricious on tumblr, where you can probably find the bingo sheet! Let me know which character you want and if you prefer writing on a drawing! Thank you so much for reading, drop me a comment if you enjoyed! Have a lovely day!


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